


No Longer Fighting This War

by SadGelatin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, There may be smut later, This got away from me, apocalypse au, sorta zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadGelatin/pseuds/SadGelatin
Summary: The End of the World had come abruptly and without fanfare, because very few people had survived to see the aftermath. It had come with a storm that had whipped and scoured across the Earth, leaving no corner untouched.A story about the End of the World, and how life in Gotham changed because of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason hadn't felt so at peace since he'd come back. It probably said something about him that he found catharsis in the end of the word, but he'd accepted a long time ago that he was a little fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so  
> this kind of got away from me.  
> this was going to be a one shot but then it turned into a story with a second chapter already in the works, and i didn't even include the main pairing in the first chapter.  
> whoops.  
> hopefully this is something i finish.
> 
> warnings for this chapter; some violence

The bitter wind whipped up the delicate white snowflakes into a flurry. They danced across the hollow city, blanketing roof tops and roads and abandoned cars. Jason wiped some of the flakes off his mask, the cold damp seeping through his glove, and then stood from his crouch at the edge of the roof.

The end of the world had come abruptly and without fanfare, because very few people survived to see the aftermath. It had come with a storm that had whipped and scoured across the earth, leaving no corner untouched. Then came the Sickness. A parasite, starting on the coasts, near water, and moving steadily inland, claiming the survivors of the storm and turning their brains into something feral that craved nothing but blood and had no higher thought beyond its own survival.

Jason called them simply ferals. They were clumsy, loud, and dangerous. They moved slowly, roving through the streets in large packs looking for their next meal, and they worked together in order to get it. When they were chasing prey, the could put on sudden bursts of inhuman speed, charging whatever poor victim they'd honed on to. Their eyesight wasn't very good in the light, and they were practically blind at night, so Jason favoured moving through the city at night. They did, however, have sharp ears that picked up the faintest movements, and their sense of smell could detect the faintest traces of blood. When they hunted, they worked with some sort of hive mind, herding and cornering their victims to rip them apart. The most important part, as any good zombie film could tell you, was that the only way to kill them was to destroy their brain. Bullets usually worked. As did boots and walls, and anything you could smash into their soft skulls would do.

Another thing that Jason had learned is that the Sickness was transmittable (and sometimes he felt like this whole situation was contrived by someone who watched way too many movies). Bites didn't do it though. In order to transmit the Sickness, someone would have to ingest about a tablespoon of infected blood. He'd also learned that the ferals put off spores that could infect you, but those were ineffective unless you were in a confined space with them for extended amounts of time (and his helmet had a filtration system, so he didn't have to worry about that anyways).

Despite everything, though, Jason hadn't felt so at peace, oddly enough, since he'd come back. It probably said something about him that he found catharsis in the end of days, but he'd accepted a long time ago that he was a little fucked up.

He checked his ammo before jumping down onto the fire escape, feeling the rusting metal creak and give slightly beneath his weight before settling again. He stopped, listening for any ferals that might have heard the metal protest. Once he was sure that none were coming, he made his way down carefully, and landed in a crouch in the snow with a quiet thud. He'd come out here for a reason, and he didn't have time to be standing on roofs thinking about inane things like peace.

The snow seeped in further through the worn leather of his gloves as he listened for movement, crouched there in the alley. When he was sure he heard nothing, he headed out onto the street. He would have taken the roof tops, but dusk was beginning to settle, and the Bat was still trying to round up survivors to evacuate to Arkham Island where Bruce and Gordon and a few others were working to carve out some semblance of civilization. Jason found the idea laughable.

As he moved silently through the streets, using abandoned cars and darkness as cover from the snow and prying eyes, he heard a single shot ring out somewhere to the north, and not far off. The shot was followed by the wretched screaming of the ferals. They were moving closer to his position. He hunkered down against the side of the car he was beside, and peered around the hood to watch for any signs of them.

Then he heard footsteps, muffled by the soft snow, and a woman's voice. She was... laughing? Dressed in red, she ran by, launching into a cartwheel that reminded him of Dick, and flipping up onto the roof of a car. There were five ferals after her. They shambled onward, crying out angrily, putting on sudden, clumsy bursts of speed that had them gaining ground quickly towards the car where she was crouched, a shotgun in her hands. She laughed, goadingly, as one of them barreled into the side of the car.

Jason reached into his jacket for his own one remaining gun, and crept around the side of his own parked car to get a clear shot as one of them ran by. He kicked out, boot connecting with it's leg. The sickly satisfying snap of bone rang through the air, followed by the sound of his gun as he put a bullet in its brain when it fell. Blood seeped out of its head into the pristine snow, staining it crimson. The woman noticed him now, and so had the ferals. Two of them branched off from the car and started towards him.

The woman raised her gun and shot the feral that had run into the side of the car, still lying on the ground. At close range, the buckshot made the feral's head explode, splattering blood across the windows of the car, and across the woman. She wiped the back of her hand over her face, then sprang and flipped from the roof over the feral that was trying to climb up, planting a firm kick to it's back, sending it through the cracked window. It impaled it's head on a shard of glass, and she landed gracefully in the snow with her arms out. He thought of Dick again.

But he couldn't afford to get distracted, he realized, as a body slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. He gasped for breath as the smell of grime and blood and decay overwhelmed him for a second. Another shot rang out, and the feral went limp on top of him, spraying him with blood as the buckshot ripped through its body. The remainder of the shot dug into his body armor, knocking the air from his lungs. He wheezed there for a moment, trying to regain himself.

He caught his breath just as the last one descended. He rolled, taking the corpse with him, and the feral smashed into the ground beside him. He lurched to his feet and brought his boot down heavy on it's head, collapsing it's skull and grinding it's brain under his heel.

Both Jason and the woman stopped, waited in silence, but no more came.

He took the chance to get a good look at the woman. Her face was obscured by the pulled up hood of the thick, red thermal jacket she'd gotten from somewhere, but long blonde curls hung from the face of the jacket, settling over her chest. she had heavy black boots on that went up to just below her knee, over red and white stripes stockings that had a run in the upper left thigh, and a skirt, which is what tipped him off.

"Harley Quinn." He clenched his fingers around his gun, but didn't raise it. Ammo was precious, and was to be used sparingly. He didn't trust the woman, but without the Joker around, she was less of a problem.

She giggled and pulled her hood down. Her face was thinner than when he'd last saw her, and her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. She wasn't wearing any of the garish makeup that her and her "puddin'" were so fond of. "Hiya there, Mistah Hood." She said, far too loudly, cocking her head to one side, "Thanks for the help."

Jason grunted. Harley's voice always grated against his ears in the most unpleasant way., "Weird to see you away from the joker." He said, against his better judgement.

Her face fell, "I haven't seen my Puddin' since this all started." She said, forlorn, waving her hand vaguely at the five corpses that littered the road around them.

Jason figured it was probably too much to hope he had died during the Storm, or the Sickness that followed. He had probably gone underground. He was probably planning.

He fidgeted for a moment before slowly holstering his gun, broadcasting his movements, and hoping she didn't decide to shoot him. "What are you doing out here?" He asked as he resituated the holster beneath his jacket. It's twin was woefully empty.

Harley tilted her head the other way, making her curly pigtails bob with the movement. "Lookin' for food." She answered, then after some deliberation, "and Red."

"I'm red." Jason offered, gesturing to his helmet.  
  
Harley giggled again, despite looking sad, "No, I mean Poison Ivy, silly." She still had the shotgun up in her arms, ready to use it.  
  
Jason shifted his weight uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on her, just as sure as she was keeping her eyes on him. _You came out here for a specific reason_ , he reminded himself, _Don't get sidetracked._  
  
Another voice in his head spoke up, _If you help her, she may help you._  
  
Jason slumped his shoulders a little and sighed, "Do you… need help?" He offered stiltedly.  
  
Harley arched an eyebrow, "You don't seem much like the helpin' type, Hood." She said. It was her turn to get suspicious, shifting back, and glancing downwards. At the crotch of his jeans, he realized after a moment.  
  
"Well, you'd have to do something for me, too." Jason folded his arms over his chest.  
  
A brief look of resentment crossed over Harley's face, followed by resignation, and she sighed, "What'd'ya want?" She asked.  
  
"I just need some help finding something. Getting somewhere." Jason said. He chewed on his lip beneath his helmet.  
  
Harley's demeanor changed immediately, "Oh! Okay." She said. She gave him a little relieved smile.  
  
"Bruce Wayne and what's left of Gotham's police force have holed up on Arkham Island and blown the bridge." Jason said. Harley nodded slowly, "I need to get to that island, though." He levelled her with a look that she couldn't see because he had his mask on.  
  
Harley pursed her lips, "What's so important about getting on that island?" She looked skeptical.  
  
Jason sighed, "Look, if you promise to help me without questioning my motives, I'll help you find Ivy, and I'll help you find food." He rolled his shoulders, "And I'll help you find some warmer clothes, too. You must be freezing." He added  
  
Harley hesitated before nodding a little, "Alright. Deal." She told him, holding out the hand that wasn't wrapped around the butt of the shotgun towards Jason to shake.  
  
He grabbed her hand and shook it, "Deal." He released her hand and rolled back on his heels, "Let's go find Ivy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are my favourite and help me write. they give my ideas life.  
> concrit is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So… you mean that you came out with the intention of searching the entire fuckin' city for her?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter

Moving through the streets of Gotham with Harley accompanying him was significantly harder than going alone. The woman was loud, and brash, and didn't have a thought for subtly. Jason was beginning to consider knocking her out and ditching her, wondering if her help was really worth the trouble.   
  
In the end, he decided that yes, any help was worth a little bit of trouble. Harley's included, no matter how much he didn't trust the woman not to suddenly stab him in the back. But she wasn't Joker, and she seemed less likely to kill him on her own. And if she tried, he could easily overpower her.

"So, how are we going to find Ivy?" Jason asked, assuming Harley had a plan for drawing the other woman out- if she was even alive. She should be. If she survived the initial storm. He didn't think the Sickness would get to her, but he also had no idea of how this thing acted or if it afflicted plant life.

Harley paused behind him and cocked her head, "Y'know, I hadn't really thought that far ahead." She confessed.   
  
Jason stopped and turned to look at her, "So… you mean that you came out with the intention of searching the entire fuckin' city for her?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level, but not exactly succeeding.

Harley at least had the decency to look sheepish, "I guess so…" She shrugged one shoulder, but wouldn't look Jason in the mask.

He sighed. Loudly. And bit back the urge to yell. "Okay, I'll see if I can find any heat signatures. But we need to go up high." He looked around for the tallest building in the area, "We'll go there." He gestured towards the skyscraper, stretching upwards, windows broken and blown out, decorated with snow. Harley swallowed audibly next to him.

"Now how the hell do you expect me to get up there, Red Dummy?" She snapped, folding her arms and angling her body away from Jason.

He gaped at her for a moment before reigning in his temper again (and really, he was proud of himself), "I'll grab you and grapple up." He reached for her and she flinched backwards. He frowned, "Jesus. I'm not going to hurt you, I still need your help, remember?"

Harley nodded and blew out a breath, "Yeah, I remember." She said, fidgeting with one of her pigtails. "But the buildin' is like two blocks off. You don't need to touch me yet."

Jason shook his head, "We'll get there faster over the rooftops." He told her, "Think you can get up there by yourself?"

"There's probably stairs in this building." Harley said, pointing off to Jason's left. The building in question had boards over the windows, which were shattered. The door was hanging by one hinge, and it was, inevitably, dark inside.

"Or you could let me take you up the side up the side of the building. We could avoid spores, possible ferals, falling through rotting stairs..." Jason said, listing reasons off on his fingers.

Harley looked uncertain. She glanced down the street, then down at the snow, which had, at least, stopped falling. After about five inches. "If we go inside, we can get out of the snow." She argued back, "How are you gonna scale a big buildin' like that if your fingers and toes are all frozen!" She gestured towards the skyscraper.

Jason sighed and rubbed his hands on his jeans, "We'd only be inside for, like, five or six minutes tops." He pointed out, "You don't have a mask. Much longer than that, you risk infection."

Harley scuffed her boot, kicking up a flurry of snow, and unshouldered a bag that she had made Jason go back for after she'd dropped it running from the ferals. She crouched down and undid the zipper before rummaging around and pulling out one of those ventilator masks that painters used to block out paint fumes.

Jason arched an eyebrow, "How about you let me take you up the side of the building." He suggested again.

Harley shook her head, adamant in her position. "Let's go up the roof access."

Jason growled and curled his fingers into fists, "Fine." He said, "We'll go through the building."

Harley started to rummage through her bag again until she found a flashlight. She closed the bag, stood back up, and shouldered it. "Let's go then."

Jason took the flashlight from her, "I'll take point, you stick close." He said, turning the flashlight on, "And keep low and quiet. Are you capable of quiet?"

Harley nodded, "Yeah, I can be quiet." She folded her arms defensively.

"Good. Lets go." Not wanting to prolong the conversation, Jason crept forward and entered the building. Behind him, Harley fixed her mask over her mouth and nose and followed after him, her footsteps remaining light, much to Jason's relief.

As they moved towards the stairs, Jason's fingers itched for his gun, but as he shined the light around, chasing away some of the only darkness, no movement caught his eye. Spores, though, clouded the air, glinting in the light and floating lazily in the stagnant air of the building. Jason kept his breathing slow and stayed low to the ground beneath the worst of the spores.

He didn't look back to check on Harley until he reached the bottom of the stairs, turning and shining the light back towards her. She had pulled the hood of her jacket up again and was keeping her head ducked to keep the spores out of her eyes. "Watch your step." He hissed back at her, "These things look about a minute from caving in."

Harley glanced up at him and nodded a little, but she didn't say anything, instead gesturing for him to continue on ahead.

Jason made a gruff noise and started up the stairs, testing each one before he took the step. They creaked and groaned under his weight, and after the first set, he stopped on the landing, listening with his head cocked for the slow shuffle of movement from above. He heard nothing but Harley stopping beside him. and continued on.

The second floor was littered with holes and weak points in the floor. There were desks and scattered debris obscuring the dangers. It would be difficult to navigate. Jason lingered at the top of the stairs, mapping a path in his head. Harley shifted impatiently beside him, "C'mon, Hood. Keep movin'." She urged.

"This place is falling apart." Jason hissed, "If I move forward blindly, the floor could collapse."

Harley fidgeted with one of her pigtails but bit her lip to refrain from speaking again. Jason stepped forward carefully and felt the unstable wood settle beneath his feet. Using the light, he picked his way across the room. He perched on the bottom step of the stairs up to the roof access and then flashed the light in Harley's direction, then made a throwing motion. She nodded and raised her hand to catch the light when he tossed it to her.

She used the light to look ahead for a moment before taking a step back. She took a running start and jumped over a gap in the floor, moving forward again as soon as her feet touched the ground. Jason watched her move quickly and fluidly across the floor with a series of cartwheels and flips and jumps, seemingly not even thinking about where she put her hands.

Jason vaguely recalled that Dick had once told him flying was all about trusting your body's instinct.

Harley landed delicately in front of him, pulling Jason from the trance he'd slipped into. He cleared his throat and jerked his head towards the stairs. These stairs dipped beneath his boots and he was certain that they would give out, but both he and Harley reached the roof without incident.

He huffed and took a deep breath of air when they got back outside, "That was way more trouble than necessary." He told her as she removed her mask.

She shrugged one shoulder, "I don't wanna scale buildings unless I have to." She said.

Jason shook his head and looked out at the skyscraper that was their destination, "Well, we aren't climbing that from the inside."

Harley sighed behind him and he saw her nod out of the corner of his eye, "Yeah, let's just get movin'." She said, and she started to walk ahead of him, for once deciding to end the conversation herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, i really appreciate kudos and comments and any feedback really!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Alright, no. I haven't found anything. I went to his apartment. It was wrecked by the storm. There was blood. No signs that anyone had been there since it was spilled, no body."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce wayne/selina kyle implied in this chapter, i guess? sort of?  
> they're mostly just platonic and flirty now.  
> also, there's some violence in this chapter. but this is a zombie apocalypse au so that's to be expected in a lot of these chapters, tbh.

When Batman landed on the roof behind her, the quiet drag of his tattered cape through the snow was the only thing to alert Catwoman of the vigilante's presence. She straightened out from her crouch and turned to face him, "I've been being good if that's what you're wondering." She informed him in a low, sultry purr, knowing well enough that her behavior wasn't the reason that Batman had sought her out. The end of the world must have made her soft, because she didn't want to tell him that she had no good news for him.

"Have you found anything?" Batman asked, cutting straight to the chase.

Catwoman cocked her head, "The Food Bank hasn't been completely looted." She supplied, not adding that the reason was because most of the people who would have needed food out here on the streets were dead, "And I saw Quinn earlier. She was by herself. No other clowns in sight." She knew that this wasn't the information Batman was looking for.  
  
Batman took a step towards her, using his lowest, deepest Batman rumble to try to force an answer out of her, "Selina."

Catwoman sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, _"_ Alright, no. I haven't found anything. I went to his apartment. It was wrecked by the storm. There was blood. No signs that anyone had been there since it was spilled, no body." She looked at the lenses of his cowl, making eye contact as best as she could as she told Batman what she had gathered on this little impromptu mission he'd recruited her for. Her instincts told her to look away, that she didn't want to see whatever emotions flitted across Batman's face for that brief second he lost control of them.

The slightest bit of concern made Batman into Bruce for just a moment before he was Batman again, working his jaw, "Keep watching. He's not dead." He said. His voice was dead, void of emotion. There was not even any conviction he could spare to the statement.  
  
Catwoman nodded and pulled her goggles up off her eyes, "Bruce, you should head back to Arkham and get some rest." She said, stepping forward and resting her hands on his shoulders.  
  
Batman (because he was still Batman, not ready to be Bruce yet) shrugged her off and turned away, "There's still work to be done." He said, "I'll send Red Robin to help you move food from the Food Bank."

Before Catwoman could protest, Batman shot out a line with his grapple gun, and he was gone.

She sighed and dropped back into a crouch, pulling her goggles back down.

 

Before the end of the world, Selina had preferred to dress and travel light. It was easier to move quickly and quiet if you weren't hampered down by the shit-load of gadgets that the Batfamily carried around. After the storm, however, she had taken to carrying a pack with her, to keep things like a gun, a gas mask, or food. Bruce had asked for her to come to Arkham, but she had refused. She would rather be on her own, and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

However, as she waited on the roof in the cold snow, she wondered that if going to Arkham meant getting things like warmer clothes, or a safe place to sleep. The chill of the air seeped through her leathers and made her limbs feel stiff. She silently implored Red Robin to hurry the hell up.

As if he had heard her, the young man landed on the roof beside her, kicking up some snow, not bothering to hide the sound of his boots, "Awful cold out here." He said, sounding sickeningly cheerful. She knew it was an act, no one could be optimistic in a Wasteland such as the world had likely become (although she had not been further than the 'Haven to check), but she sneered at him anyways.

Red Robin didn't falter, instead smiling at her from behind his domino, "Batman said you knew where we could get some food." He said.

Catwoman scoffed, "Yeah, but he didn't give me a chance to negotiate the shares before he ran off." She said, crossing her arms over her chest again.

Red Robin nodded, "We can figure out how to split it up once we've taken stock of it." He said, before gesturing out over the snowy rooftops of Gotham, "Lead the way?"

Catwoman rolled her eyes and turned to run off in the direction of the Food Bank, confident that Red Robin could keep up with her easily as she jumped to the next roof top. She heard the flutter of his cape and the thud of hit boots as he followed her.

They went about half way in silence before Red Robin spoke up, his voice almost hesitant, "Has Bruce- er... Batman really got you looking for Nightwing?" He asked.

Selina almost stumbled at the edge of the next roof top, stopping in her tracks to look at Tim (he wasn't Red Robin anymore, he was a kid, worried about his brother now), the quality of his voice shocking her for a moment. "Yeah. I'm keeping an eye out for him." She said, shaking off her surprise and continuing on, dropping down onto the fire escape and leaping to grab hold of a windowsill so she could climb up the side of the taller building. She heard the decompression of Tim's grapnel gun, and then the sound of his boots as he landed on the roof above her. When she neared the top, she took his offered hand and he pulled her up the rest of the way onto the roof.

"Any sign of him?" He asked, using his Red Robin voice again.

Catwoman shook her head, "I went to his apartment." She said, before pausing, "But Batman thinks he's still alive." She added.

Red Robin nodded, but he looked uncertain. "He was in the 'Haven when the storm hit." He jumped off the roof, gliding down to the one beneath it. Catwoman landed delicately beside him, "If he's still alive and... and himself, why hasn't he checked in?"

Catwoman shrugged one shoulder, "Maybe he's busy doing the same thing Batman's doing." She suggested.

"Working himself to death?" The humor that Red Robin tried to put in his voice fell flat.

Catwoman huffed a little at the almost joke and shook her head, "Helping people." She corrected, "The urge to do so runs like a disease in your family." She dropped down to another fire escape, and then down onto the snowy ground beneath it. "It's just across the street." She pointed to the building that used to be Gotham Food Bank. The sign was hanging from one screw, and the windows were all blown out. "We have to move quietly. There are those things inside."

Red Robin nodded, "How many are there? Do you think we could dispatch them?" He asked.

Catwoman thought, "There were maybe about ten when I was here this morning." She said. "We could try, but I don't have a lot of ammunition, and a gun will draw them all out at once."

Red Robin tilted his head from side to side, weighing the options, "I have my shurikens." He said, "And you have bolas. Those could crush through a rotting skull pretty easily, I think."

"Alright. Lets try to get rid of them then." Catwoman agreed, though she felt skeptical.

Red Robin toggled the lenses on his Domino. He observed the Food Bank silently for a moment. "There are eight." He said after a moment, "Five of them are spread out through the building, and three of them are clustered in back. How do you want to play this?" He asked.

"You take out the three in back, and I'll work my way through the spread out ones." Catwoman answered, standing to her full height, "You go around back, I'll enter through the front."

Red Robin looked uncertain, but he didn't argue with her, "You're the boss." He said instead. She heard the decompression of Red Robin's grapnel gun and he was gone, up to the roof top the the high building to their left.

Taking the more direct route, Catwoman darted across the street and ducked below one of the shattered windows. The ears on her costume had stopped working awhile ago, but she still had sharp hearing without them, so she paused to listen, trying to pinpoint the locations of the five infected. She heard one shuffle pass the window, and another grumbling and rummaging around on the shelves off to her left, but she couldn't locate the other three so she shifted to peer over the lip of the window. A third was in the aisle right in front of her, which left the other two in unknown locations.

The one that had been in shuffling past the window stopped and squinted at her in the low light. She held perfectly still and waited for it to turn away before she grabbed it, covering it's mouth with one gloved hand and bringing its head downward as hard as she could. It split open on the windowsill. It squirmed there where the windowsill had bluntly forced its way into the back of the thing's head, but with a hard punch to the face, the thing fell still.

The others had heard the impact and were shuffling curiously towards Selina's location. She ducked back beneath the windowsill and held her breath as the infected snuffled around the newly dead body. Then there was silence for a long moment, and they shuffled on, the decaying flesh of their brethren of no interest to them. Once they were gone, Selina blew out a breath and circled around through the door.

One of the four remaining infected that Selina had to deal with had gone back down the aisle that was in front of the window. She crawled forward on all fours as it twitched and lurched down the aisle. She unhooked her whip from her belt and lashed it out. It curled around the thing's legs, and she yanked, sending it thumping to the ground. She sprinted forward as it tried to regain its bearings and brought her heel down hard on its head, grinding it into its brain. It didn't have a chance to scream. She dropped back down into a crouch and paused, listening for movement to gauge if the other infected had heard.

She heard a dull thump from near the back of the store and new that Red Robin had reached his target.

Selina hopped up onto one of the shelves to survey the store for the other three infected. She saw one moving around in an aisle three to her left, and another lingering near the front counter, and the last one at the far right of the store, digging around in boxes of food.

She went after the one to her left first, dropping down into the next aisle and slinking towards where it shuffled aimlessly up and down its aisle. She waited up against one of the shelves until it had its back turned, and then she whipped her bolas at its head. As Red Robin had predicted, the steel balls sunk easily through the decaying flesh and weakened bone. The infected fell to the floor and she retrieved them, feeling mildly disgusted at the brain matter that dripped from the weapon.

Three down, two to go.

Something grabbed her from behind and she jolted, beginning to wiggle and thrash as one of the infected lifted her bodily from the ground. She had half a mind to shout, but didn't want to alert the rest to where she was at too. She couldn't hear any others but the one.

It snuffled at her neck, its breath putrid as it washed over her face. It snuffled lower down her arm. With some maneuvering, she got one leg in position and kicked back into the Infected's shin just as it sunk its teeth into the meat of her arm. Pain bloomed immediately from the bite, but the kick did is job, and the infected let go, howling angrily at Selina. She landed in a crouch and stumbled forward a little, her hand going up to wrap around her bleeding bicep.

Its howl caused a clatter off towards there the last infected had been rummaging around in the box, followed by a thumb as Red Robin, no doubt, took the thing down. Selina straightened out and lashed out with her good arm, flexing her claws and catching the infected across the face. It staggered back and she followed her claws with a sweep of her leg. It fell and she finished it off with her boot before covering her wound with her hand again to staunch the bleeding a bit.

Red Robin appeared a moment later and stepped forward, "You're bleeding." He observed dumbly.

Selina glared at him, "Yeah, one of these things bit me." She said, gesturing to the sprawled out body on the floor. "It doesn't matter. Let's take stock of the food."

Red Robin nodded, "Alright." He stared at her for a moment before turning his back to her, "I killed the three in back and the one you missed." He said, and he sound so guilty.

The Bats all had such bleeding hearts.

"They're mindless animals now, it's a mercy to put them down." Selina commented, prodding one of the corpses with the toe of her boot as they walked towards where some of the food was already boxed up.

Red Robin's shoulders tensed a little, "Maybe, but they were people once. They still deserve to be mourned."

"This is Gotham, sweetheart. Chances are, they weren't very good people anyways." Selina replied. She rummaged through one of the crates. It had lots of canned and boxed food.

"There's enough food on these shelves to fill up three more crates." Red Robin said, walking past her to pry open the other crate, using one of his shurikens.

"Well, then I'll take one for myself, and your little survival shelter on Arkham can take the rest." Selina picked up a tin of tuna and looked at the expiration date.

Red Robin looked surprised, "That's... generous." He arched an eyebrow.

Selina shrugged, wincing as the motion made the bite on her arm hurt, "It's just little ol' me. You've got all those helpless civilians to watch after and feed." She said, some measure of mocking in her voice.

Red Robin sighed, "Yeah yeah. Help me load up the crates."

It took them about two hours to get the crates loaded. Once they were done, Red Robin put in a call for the Batwing.

Selina expected to hear the telltale sound of the things jets, which had always been loud, but when Red Robin looked up and told her that it was here, she was surprised. She'd heard nothing at all.

"We modified it." Red Robin said, looking mildly proud, "So it doesn't draw out all the infected in the city."

Selina chuckled, "That's probably smart."

Without further conversation, they loaded four of the five crates into the Batwing, and then Red Robin programmed it to take the crates back to Arkham. "Thanks for your help, Catwoman." He said once they were done.

Selina gave a nonchalant look, "Guess I have a weakness for the Big Bad Bat sometimes." She replied. She moved to go retrieve her own crate, but Red Robin stopped her.

"Hey, uh... Catwoman?" He was just Tim again, "Keep us updated, alright? About Nightwing?"

Selina nodded, "Yeah." She said, "I'm sure he'll turn up." It sounded like a hollow promise, even to her own ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> thank you guys for reading so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ivy was sitting cross legged on the floor, back to the door, soaking up the few shafts of weak sunlight that managed to enter the apartment through the slats in the boards over the windows._
> 
>  
> 
> _"You're looking real bad, Red."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i noticed a lot of typos in the last chapter. i'm sorry, guys. i write these on my phone, and i have no beta.  
> mild nudity, i guess would be the only warning for this chapter?  
> and it's not in any sexual scenario, it's just nudity.  
> do i need to warn for nudity in a written story?

Selina returned to the apartment building she had holed up in after the Storm had hit. The only way in was a window on the fifth floor, all the other windows were boarded up, and the building was, luckily, free of spores. She used her whip to help tow the crate up the side of the building, and pulled it in through the window with some effort. She set the box down, taking a moment to rest, before going to the apartment she had claimed as her own.

Ivy was sitting cross legged on the floor, back to the door, soaking up the few shafts of weak sunlight that managed to enter the apartment through the slats in the boards over the windows.

"You're looking real bad, Red." Selina said, her voice betraying her concern. Ivy's normally vibrant hair was slowly turning brown like wilting flower petals, and her skin looked yellowish and sickly.

"I need sunlight. And warmth." Ivy responded, the bitterness evident in her tone. She dropped her head and exhaled, "This weather is taking my strength."

"I can't control the weather." Selina said. She pushed the box up against the wall, "But I did bring food." She unshouldered her pack and pulled out an unopened gallon jug of water, "And water." She set it down with a thump.

Ivy looked at Selina over her shoulder and nodded a little, "At least you found something." She slowly unfolded her legs and rose, unsteadily, to her feet. The bandages around her left calf were beginning to stain, in need of replacement, but Selina didn't have any extras.

She gestured, "How's your leg? It looks like you're having trouble standing."

Ivy shook her head and looks down, "It feels stiff. I don't think it's healing well." She admitted before crossing the small room to stand in front of Selina, "And you have to heal now, too."

Selina's lip curled back a little bit and she looked down at the bite on her arm. It was throbbing and painful and her suit was sticky from the blood. "One of those damn infected down at the food bank sunk its teeth into me." She said, covering the wound with her hand again. "I'm going to have to go out and look for medical supplies."

Ivy's lip curled into a frown, "You should rest first." She folded her arms and pursed her lips, managing to look intimidating despite also having the appearance of a wilting flower.

Selina stared the other woman down, "We need medical supplies. Rest can come after." She shook her head, "I've still got some steam to run on."

Ivy's displeased frown turned into a scowl but she turned her back, "Fine." She lowered herself back to the floor, back in the weak pool of sunlight, and tucked her legs back into crossed positioned.

Selina sighed at her back, "Do you need fertilizer or something?" She asked, half joking. When Ivy didn't respond, she went over to where she had left her gathered supplies by the wall, "Drink something while I'm gone." She slid the jug across the rough wood floor before she left the apartment again.

 

Jonathan looked up from the blood sample he was collecting when he heard light footsteps. When the Cat stepped into view, he knew she'd purposely allowed him to hear her. "I s'pose this ain't a social call." He said in lieu of any greeting. He put a stopper in the little beaker and tucked it into the pocket of his long, raggedy coat before rising to his full height, the joints in his knees creaking from the cold and the strain of staying in a crouched position for long.

She smirked just a little, "Very observant of you, Professor." She replied, and Jonathan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's Doctor, Miss Kyle."

She scoffed, "Titles don't matter much now anyhow, Crane." She glanced up at the pale morning sky. "Got anywhere we can talk?" She asked, "It's kinda cold out here."

Jonathan watched her for a moment, knitting his eyebrows. "Yes." He said finally, "Follow me. It isn't far." He turned his back to her and started walking, trusting that she would follow.

He had to admit, she was right. It was very cold outside, and seemed to be getting colder by the day. He hunched in a little on himself, pulling his shoulders down and his jacket tighter around his narrow frame with one hand, "You wanna tell me what this is about?" He asked over his shoulder as they walked.

"I need a favour." Selina replied, "Maybe a few."

Jonathan snorted in derision, "And why would I do anythin' for you?"

"Could be my good looks and my irresistible charm."

Jonathan actually chuckled at that, "Jesus, woman, you sound like Ed." He said. Selina didn't respond for a few minutes, and when Jonathan glanced back to make sure she was still following, she had a considerate frown on her face. He didn't like that look. He could feel her watching him now, from behind her goggles. "What is it?" He snapped.

Selina turned her head away slightly, "Don't know. Just haven't heard from Eddie since all this started."

Jonathan grunted and turned to keep on walking, "That man is like a god damned cockroach, he'll show up when it's least convenient and annoy the shit out of everyone." He said, "And then he'll probably figure out a way to get power or somethin'."

Selina huffed at Jonathan, "You don't know that. He could be dead. A lot of people could be dead." She pressed.

"Wistful thinkin'."

"That's cold, Jon."

Jonathan kept walking, choosing now to ignore Selina until they got to the building he'd selected as his place of... residence... during all this. It was a two story brownstone with a basement. The windows were boarded up, the doors were both still in tact, and there were no spores inside, so it was as good a place as any. He forced the door open with his shoulder, sliding the book case that he'd moved to block it, and gestured for Selina to enter first.

She slipped in through the opening and squinted through the gloom, "Nice place you got here, Doc." She said, sarcasm evident in her tone. Whoever had lived here before the Storm had clearly not been wealthy. All the furniture on the main floor looked tattered and dirty, like it had seen many many years of use.

"Yeah, real homey." Jonathan concurred as he shut the door behind them and pushed the book case back into place. "Keep movin'." He gestured for her to follow him towards the back of the building, "We're goin' downstairs."

"Why?" Selina asked as she walked after him, her footsteps creaking on the rotting wooden planks.

"Because," Her footsteps were not nearly as heavy as Jonathan's boots covered in blood and mud which tracked and stained the already filthy floor, "That's where I'm set up." He pulled a key from one of the inner pockets of his coat, and unlocked the basement door.

Selina slid past him again and carefully took the steps down into the inky darkness.

Jonathan flipped on a flash light before he descended, pausing to lock the basement door behind him. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he started the gas generator against the back wall, and lights sputtered to life above their heads. He reached up and pulled the mask off his head, "What do you want, Cat?"

Selina giggled and he assumed it was because the mess his hair was in, sticking up every which way, mussed from the mask, and getting too long. He sighed and fixed her with a glare until she stopped. "Are you done?" He asked.

"You're getting old." She replied.

"You're really not makin' me want to help you."

Selina sighed, "Alright, alright." She said, "The first favour is that I need some medical supplies."

"An' what makes you think I'm gonna give you medical supplies?" Jonathan folded his arms over his chest.

Selina smiled a little, "Because then I'll owe you." She sidled closer, hovering around the edge of Jonathan's personal space, "And I know how to get things, Jon."

Jonathan glared mildly at Selina, "You do me somethin' first, and you'll get your medical supplies." He saw Selina's posture turn wary.

"I wouldn't be coming to you for medical supplies if it wasn't urgent." She said, squaring up her posture and flexing her fingers.

"You're not exactly trustworthy." Jonathan replied.

Selina looked away from him angrily, "Fine. But how much medical supplies are we talking?"

Jonathan looked her over, "Three rolls of bandages, hypodermic needles, a bottle of pain killers."

Selina grit her teeth, "Throw in some Penicillin." She demanded.

Jonathan cocked his head to the side, "Why do you need Penicillin?" He asked, pushing aside some of his hair that had fallen in his eyes.

"I ran into Ivy some time ago. She had a wound on her leg and I treated it best I could, but it isn't healing." Selina explained, sounding reluctant, "She said that her leg is starting to feel stiff, and last time I looked at the wound, it looked... infected, I think. But I can't tell, because Ivy's got weird biology."

Jonathan knit his eyebrows, "What's the other thing you need?" He asked.

Selina tilted her head from side to side before sighing, "I need a fuel siphon and a jerry can."

"I can't help you with that." Jonathan replied, shaking his head, "You're gonna need to find someone else who has those things." He turned his back to her and went to a table loaded down with various vials with handwritten labels. He picked up a few before selecting a bottle containing Albendazole. He'd found several bottles of it at the hospital, and had wanted to test it to see if it would kill incubating parasites within an infected person's blood stream before it reached their brain. He retrieved a hypodermic needle and filled up the chamber before turning back to Selina.

"This favour won't take long." He informed her. She eyed him warily as he walked back over with the needle. "Take your suit down so you can get your arm free."

"Excuse me?" Selina took a step back.

Jonathan sighed, "This," He gestured with the needle, "Is Albendazole. It's an anti-parasite."

She frowned, "And why do you want to inject me with it."

"You have an open wound on your arm and blood all over your suit." Jonathan said, "There's a possibility that you're infected."

Selina looked considerate for a moment and then horrified, but it was quickly gone from her face, "And what will the drug do if I am?" She asked.

"Well, I want to see if it will kill the eggs incubatin' in an infected person's bloodstream before they reach the brain." Jonathan explained.

"So it could be a cure."

"No."

"Then what?"

"If the parasite has already reached a person's brain, I'm afraid it has already done too much damage to be 'cured', but if it's eliminated in the blood stream, there's a chance that the person won't change. There's also a chance that the parasites will release toxin when they die and the host will get very sick, and possibly die."

"So you could kill me!" Selina shouted, taking a step back.

"Only if you're infected." Jonathan replied, "Take your suit down."

Selina glared at him, "And you're not going to give me medicine unless I do this." She guessed.

Jonathan grinned, "Absolutely correct. Now who's the observant one?"

Selina's glare got more intense and she unzipped her suit down to her navel, and then peeled it off her arm. She crossed her still covered arm over her chest to give herself some modesty as her breasts bounced free of the leather.

Jonathan ignored her nudity in favour of taking her arm in his hand. "Ah. Wait there." He went to get some water, dampening a small strip of bandage. He came back and wiped the blood away from the site of the wound and felt Selina flinch beneath him. "You know, you may need some antibiotics as well." He told her as he examined the wound. The skin felt warmer beneath his hand than the skin of her wrist did.

She huffed at him, "And why is that?"

"The infected eat flesh. And they are decaying. I have no doubt in my mind that their mouths are absolutely filthy." He replied, "Straighten your arm out and lock your elbow." He instructed. She did as she was told. He checked the chamber of the hypodermic needle for air bubbles, and then found the vein on the inside of Selina's arm. He carefully inserted the needle beneath her skin and injected the Albendazole into her vein. "All done."

Selina went to pull her suit back up, but he stopped her, "Let me bandage your arm first."

She sighed but didn't object. He used the remaining bandages from the roll he'd used to clean the wound and bound her arm securely before stepping back and allowing her to redress.

"So, Doc. How can I get more antibiotics out of you?" She asked.

"Come back in a week and let me take a blood sample." Jonathan replied, turning his back to Selina again to look around through the bottles of medicine he had.

She was silent behind him for a long moment before she sighed, "Fine. I'll see you in a week then."

Jonathan picked up three bottles and walked back to Selina. He held up one, "This is Hydromorphone." He said, "It's a very potent narcotic. Use it in very small doses and only if you absolutely need it." He handed her the bottle and then held up another, "This is Meropenem. It's a basic antibiotic. It's for you, not for Ivy. Take one milligram a day until the bottle is empty." He handed that bottle off too and then presented her the last one, "And this is the Penicillin. For Ivy. Same instructions. One milligram a day until the bottle is empty."

Selina closed her fingers over the bottles and nodded. Jonathan went to get the bandages and the hypodermics, and when he returned, Selina had tucked the bottles into her pack. He handed her the bandages, but withheld the hypodermics, "Don't share needles with Ivy, wash them well between uses, and make sure that there are no air bubbles in the chamber before you inject them. An air bubble in your blood stream is an aneurysm waiting to happen. Literally."

Once Selina nodded her understanding, Jonathan handed off the needles, "Good. Now. Come on, it's time for you to leave." He headed towards the stairs and pulled the key out again so he could unlock the basement door, and he heard Selina behind him as he took the stairs. He opened the door and gestured for her to exit the basement. She complied, slipping past him on the stairs and out into the main room of the brownstone.

"Guess I'll be seeing you, Jonny." She said as she shoved the bookcase out of her way. She gave him a little wave and exited the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

After she was gone, Jonathan replaced the bookshelf and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, and thought back to what Selina had said about Edward. He could be dead.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry that this isn't very happy so far.  
> i actually didn't intend to make things so angsty, but my writing kinda does its own thing most of the time.  
> also, sorry about the switching perspectives. i wanted to finish up with this little section of selina's narrative (and jonathan's, i guess), so i could progress to the next part!
> 
> do you guys care at all about how their costumes have changed since the storm?  
> i don't know if that's important at all since this is a fan fic, but everyone's styles have definitely changed to be more practical for the cold weather and the ever constant danger of the ferals and whatnot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not an architect and i don't actually know how tall a sixty story building would be.

"So, how exactly are we going to get up the side of a building if you got no where to put your feet?" Harley asked, standing beside Jason on the street in front of the skyscraper Jason had selected.

"I didn't think about that." Jason confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. The building had been one of those newer skyscraper buildings that were made almost entirely out of mirrored windows, and the initial Storm or persisting weather had blown all of them out on all sides of the building after the tenth floor, leaving it a skeleton with it's insides exposed to the elements, and falling to pieces. "This may not have been the best choice."

Harley scowled, "Now who's the dummy!" She exclaimed, looking at Jason. "We could try to make our way through the inside again. Probably ain't a lot of spores, considerin' there's no windows."

Jason reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, but his helmet prevented him from doing so. He settled on sighing instead and rolling his shoulders, "Jesus, I really don't want to climb all those stairs." He muttered, "Harley, the building's got like eighty floors."

"Sixty, come on Hood, don't be lazy. That's still like thirteen hundred feet you gotta scale with your grapnel gun. That's probably worse than stairs when you got a passenger." Harley said. She pushed her hood down and crouched to rummage through her bag.

"How do you figure it's thirteen hundred feet?" Jason asked, sounding somewhat amused.

"Well, I figure each floor is about twenty feet tall, with about a foot a foot between each level, and arched ceilings at the top." She stood with her gas mask in one hand, and some sort of baton in the other, "If you gutted the building and took out the foundation of each floor, you'd have sixty floors twenty feet a piece, which is twelve hundred, easy peasy." She fixed the baton into her belt and checked her bat on her back before resettling the bag, "Now, if you add that foot of foundation between each floor, you get another sixty feet, and another thirty for the vaulted ceilings on the top floor. Nearly thirteen hundred feet." She turned to look at him, "Now, you could walk up fifty flights of stairs, you could grapple up thirteen hundred feet with a passenger, or you could do it alone, and I can text my luck inside, possibly die, and then I won't be able to help you get to Arkham. What'll it be?" She put the gas mask on her face and then braced her hand on her hip, cocking it expectantly.

Jason stared at her dumbly for a moment, "Fifty flights?" He asked finally.

"I imagine we'd be enterin' from the tenth floor. Lets get a move on, we're losin' darkness and soon those things are gonna be out actively hunting." Harley replied.

Jason shook himself out of his bemusement and nodded. Harley was right. The sun had long since begun to peek over the horizon and dawn was fast approaching. "Fine, we'll go through the inside, but any chance we have to grapple, we're taking it, alright?" He asked.

Harley nodded, "You're the boss!" She sing-songed.

At the moment, Jason felt very much unlike 'The Boss' however.

"Whatever." He crouched to go through his own bag, pulling out a flashlight and checking the ammo on his gun, "We don't shoot unless we have to. We'll get gritty taking down any ferals we find."

"Why do you call them ferals?" Harley asked as Jason straightened out.

Jason checked his grappling gun, "Because that's what they are. They're ferals." He looked over at Harley and extended his hand out for her to take. She took it and allowed Jason to pull her close, "Hold on tight or I might drop you. And I need you to be ready to grab the ledge because I can't pull us both up if you're wrapped around me like this."

Harley nodded and pressed up tight against Jason's body, wrapping her arms around his neck and curling her fingers into the collar of his jacket, effectively clinging to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her secure and fired off the grappling gun. He tugged on it to make sure it caught the steel frame of one of the blown out windows, and when the hook didn't come loose, he hit the release and the line went taut before the wall of the building zipped up to meet them. He planted his feet against one of the windows and winced when it cracked under the force of his boots.

Harley's legs came up around his waist while he climbed, which put them out of the way and also freed up the hand that had been holding her waist so he could use both hands to get them up the side of the building. "Grab the ledge and pull yourself up." He told Harley once they reached the tenth floor, grabbing the ledge with one hand himself to keep them steady.

Harley detached herself and turned in a way that looked painful so she could grab the ledge and pull herself up. She offered her hand down to Jason once she was up on solid ground. He took it and pulled himself up as well.

The building was dark, and snow had blown across the floor. They were in what appeared to be a private office. A computer was smashed against one of the far walls, and a sturdy would desk had been upturned, it's contents blown about the room, and likely out into the streets of Gotham. A small photo of a family lay in a cracked frame near Jason's boot, and a painting was in absolutely tatters on the floor beneath a chunk of wall and a dusting of snow.

His survey of the room was interrupted by a shuffling sound from deeper into the building. He looked at Harley, who was reaching for her bat and held his hand up to stop her, "Just move slow and stay quiet." He murmured, "We don't know how many there are, we could get overwhelmed easily."

"Your visor has a heat sensor, doesn't it?" Harley replied, dipping her voice low so that Jason had to strain a little to hear her.

Jason nodded, "Yeah, but the power is limited and I don't want to waste it picking our way through this building. I need it to find Ivy." He whispered back.

Harley nodded, "Alright. Lead the way." She gestured towards the door to the office.

Jason nodded and headed as quietly towards the door as he could without dropping into a crouch, which he didn't want to do in case he had to make quick work of a feral. The hallway was even darker than the hallway, unlit by the pale light from outside. He stuck close to the wall and surveyed the hallway. There were four more offices on his right, and five on his left, including the one directly across from the office they'd just exited. No immediate signs of ferals, so Jason continued forward, listening to the the sound of movement ahead.

He didn't risk opening any of the doors to his right or left, in case the noise of the hinges alerted whatever was moving about ahead to their presence. He paused at the end of the hallway and checked over his shoulder to make sure that Harley was still behind him and held up a hand for her to stop. She paused and curled her fingers around the handle of her bat just in case. Jason looked back and peered around the corner out into a half destroyed bullpen. The area was open enough for Jason to identify movement even through the gloom. He still flipped on his visor so he could get an accurate count of the ferals in the room.

"There's too many to take on like this, and not enough cover to try and pick them off silently." He informed Harley quietly, turning his visor off and turning to face the woman.

Harley pouted, "So, what, are we going to try to sneak around?" She asked.

"We're going to have to. So be quiet and watch your footing. Don't know what kind of debris is in our way."

Harley nodded, "I'm still followin' your lead." She informed him.

Jason nodded and dropped into a low crouch. He crept forward, keeping his eye on the shuffling forms that were clustered around the back of the room where the hallway was that Jason wanted to get them to.

He paused again behind a partially overturned desk and waited for Harley to catch up before flipping his visor on again to check the locations of the ferals. A few of them had split off from the group and were snuffling around another clump of desks. A sickening wet sound filled the air a moment later as one of them crouched down. Jason turned his visor off just as it stood up again, a bone with stringy muscle and flesh still on it stuck in its jaw.

Jason exhaled through his nose before moving forward again until he reached the wall opposite of where they'd started. A few more feet to the hallway, but a majority of the ferals were still hanging around aimlessly.

Jason stopped, wondering how the fuck to get them away from the hallway entrance. He turned to Harley, "Do you have anything I can throw?" He asked.

Harley gave him an incredulous look and pulled her gas mask down, "Something you can throw?" She echoed.

Jason nodded, "Put your damn mask back on and look around for something that'll carry across the room and make noise when it lands."

A look of understanding passed over Harley's face and she fixed her gas mask back into place before helping Jason search through the debris quietly.

She returned to him with a pencil cup and a hunk of drywall, "Will either of these work?" She asked.

Jason nodded, "Yeah, give me the drywall." He held out his hand and she placed it in his palm. He tested the weight before winding his arm back and chucking it across the room. It exploded into dust against the other wall with a muffled thud.

All the ferals looked up towards the noise and the ones near the entrance to the hallway began to shuffle in that general direction. Once they were distracted, Jason gestured for Harley to follow him and hurried through into the hallway, closing the door behind Harley and locking it to buy them some time.

"Stairwell is at the end of the hall, move quickly." Jason instructed, standing to his full height.

"Are there any more ferals?" Harley asked, standing up as well.

"Not on this floor. Now come on before they come back break down the door." He gave Harley a little shove in the right direction before heading towards the stairwell himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was kind of difficult for me to write, so i'm sorry if it's not very good. i had to get up from my computer several times because i had to stop writing for a bit. i also ended up writing a short oneshot halfway through writing this chapter. whoops.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!  
> comments and kudos are appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were dead ferals with masks over their face propped up at the table, and a tea set laid out with a cup for each feral. Jason grimaced at the reek of rotting flesh and kind of wished he could pretend to drink tea with his helmet on. The smell alone was enough to make him nauseous, never mind the gruesome picture the corpses painted.
> 
> _Jason and Harley have an unfortunate encounter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: super minor violence, and non-consensual drugging.
> 
> any mistakes are my own.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Jason looked over his shoulder at Harley and hoped she could feel his glare through the helmet. Ahead of them, the staircase had collapsed. They were on the forty third floor, and Jason was honestly surprised that they hadn't encountered this problem sooner.

"I dunno. You're the one in charge here!" Harley replied defensively, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from him. "It ain't my fault the stairs are out."

"No, but you could help come up with a fucking solution!" Jason snapped, "This was your goddamn idea!" He clenched his jaw and his fists.

Harley pressed her lips together, "We could go back and try ta find a window." She suggested after a minute.

Jason growled, "Great idea. Let's go back to the fucking ferals that'll rip us limb from limb and fire off my grappling gun in the middle of the pack and hope it catches onto something."

Harley's scowl was withering and made Jason take a step back, the heel of his boot sending stones falling into the stairwell, "You should be more nice, Red Dummy." She said, "I've got your back against the abyss."

That was a little dramatic, but it was true that if Jason did fall, the stairs beneath them provided no opportunity to land correctly. He would get seriously injured if he allowed her to back him off the ledge. But he was still kind of pissed and didn't respond to the threat with fear or an apology, "How about you take a step back then, Quinn." He said instead, reaching for his gun, "I can put a bullet in you awful quick."

Harley considered this before backing down. "How about the elevator shaft." She suggested as if nothing had just happened, and there had been no threats of violence.

Jason snorted and shook his head, "That could work, yeah. I don't have anything we can pry it- woah, hey." He glanced down behind him and shifted nervously when Harley crouched down and pulled a fucking crowbar from her bag.

Harley gave him an odd look, "For pryin' the elevator doors open." She explained.

Jason did not relax, "Right. You, uh, lead the way." He gestured towards the door behind them.

Harley didn't budge, Jason's stomach knotted a little and he actually flinched when she held the crowbar out to him, but he didn't trust goddamn clowns around him with crowbars, okay? He'd been down that route before, "You wanna hold it?" She asked, and her voice was oddly gentle.

Jason took the crowbar and put it on his belt, glaring at her from beneath his helmet, "I probably have a better chance of getting those doors open." He muttered.

Harley was looking at him like she was putting something together and Jason didn't like it, so he shouldered past her out into the hallway, then turned to watch as she followed him. She slipped past him in the hallway and bounced up to the elevators where she hit one of the buttons.

They were both surprised when the button lit up. Jason waited a minute or two to see if the doors would open, but they didn't, so he keeled down and wedged the crowbar between the elevator doors. With some effort, he pried the doors apart enough to get his arm between them, and pushed them the rest of the way apart. "There."

Harley leaned through the doors and looked down, and then up, and then shook her head, "Nope. Not happening." She decided.

Jason stared at her, "Excuse me?"

"I'm not going in there, I changed my mind. This was a bad idea."

"Like hell you do!" Jason snapped, raising his voice a little, "We're climbing the fucking elevator shaft."

"The elevator is above us." Harley pointed out, "We could get crushed."

"For the love of- It's one fucking floor, we'll be fine. It's like ten feet."

"I don't like this." Harley stepped back and shook her head.

Jason's jaw tightened, "It was your fucking idea." He snapped, still trying to keep his voice calm.

"You know, I can hear you guys from up here."

Both Jason and Harley quickly stepped back from the elevator doors as a voice came from above their head, and Jason swung the crowbar up into a batting position.

"You're both rather unsubtle."

Jason bit his tongue to keep back a groan, and Harley made a pleased noise, "Tetch. How did you get up there?"

The little blonde man snickered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes. We would." Jason snapped. He didn't lower his weapon.

"Well, why should I tell you?" Jervis asked, then his voice changed and Jason could hear the smile in it, "I can help you both up, but you must stay for tea."

"Stay for tea? We don't have fucking time for tea, we're busy." Jason finally dropped his arms, then folded them over his chest. He didn't let the crowbar go, though.

"I think you should make time." Jervis replied darkly.

Harley cut in before Jason could say something,  "'Course we'll stay for tea, Jervis."

Jervis's voice shifted again and he sounded like he was smiling again, "Wonderful! Lovely!" And then Jason could hear his footsteps above them, running off.

"I swear to god if that little freak tries anything..." He growled.

"If he tries anything, we likely won't be able to do anything about it." Harley replied casually.

Jason glared at her, "We have guns." He said, "And if it comes down to it, I'll just leave you behind." He shrugged one shoulder.

"What? Why do you- Oh." Harley nodded a little, "I'm at more of a risk than you are."

"For multiple reasons." Jason confirmed, "Your pretty blonde hair being the biggest one."

Harley frowned a little and fiddled with a few strands of her hair, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't leave me with him, Hood." She said, making her voice as saccharine as possible.

Jason snorted beneath his helmet but then sighed, "I won't if I can help it." He agreed.

Above them, the elevator lurched and slowly began to lower. Harley and Jason exchanged looks and took another step back from the elevator doors. The elevator stopped unsteadily at their floor, and they both stared at it for a moment.

"I'm not getting on that." Jason said finally, "This is Tower of Terror bullshit, and it's not happening."

"Only way up!" Jervis sing-songed above them. There was a soft thump on the roof of the elevator, and then the man dropped down through the maintenance hatch, "It's stable enough."

Jervis was a bit of a mess, Jason noted. His hat was slightly askew, and his hair was beginning to look more brown than blonde. He had a pair of welding goggles around his neck and a smudge of grease on his cheek, and Jason vaguely wondered what he'd been doing, and if they should be worried about getting up to the next floor.

"We don't really seem to have any other choice, Hood." Harley muttered, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. Jason saw Jervis track the movement and took a step forward, deciding to stay between the two at all times. He wasn't really sure what Jervis did with his "Alice" before he inevitably killed her, but he was sure it wasn't anything as savory as tea parties.

"We'll follow you up, little man."

Jervis tilted his head back just a little, observing Jason briefly before he turned his back to them. Jason immediately noticed the pistol tucked into the back of his belt. He got up on one of the rails and had to make a jump for the maintenance hatch before he pulled himself up and disappeared.

Jason looked at Harley, "I'll go first then pull you up, okay?" When she nodded, Jason took a cautious step into the elevator. He was just tall enough to reach the hatch when he reached up and stood on his toes. He hooked his fingers on the ledge and pulled himself up. Once he was up on top of the cab he shifted around and held his hand down for Harley to take. She took a jump and wrapped both her hands around his elbow, and he pulled her up until he could catch her waist with his other hand and pull her the rest of the way up.

Jason got up as soon as Harley was on top of the cab and climbed up the four foot ledge between the top of the elevator and the next floor. Harley followed him after a moment and they both looked around. Jervis was no where in sight, which did not bode well.

"Be on  your guard, we don't know what he's up to." Jason whispered, resisting the urge to reach for his gun. The crowbar would have to be enough for now.

"It's time for tea now." Jervis announced, appearing rather suddenly to Jason's left, and Jason barely restrained himself from taking the little creep's head off.

"Jesus, don't sneak up on a guy like that!" Jason hissed.

Jervis only giggled and gestured for them to follow him, "Come now." He walked off with a spring in his step, leaving Jason and Harley to follow.

As they walked, Jason reached up and hit the release on his helmet. He pulled it off and tucked it under his arm before running his hand through his sweaty hair, "We're going to play Jervis's game and get out of here as quickly as possible, hopefully without me having to crack his skull open." He said.

Harley's footsteps stopped behind him and he turned to look at her. He found her looking back at him thoughtfully. "What?" He snapped.

"Nothin'. Just never seen you without your hood, Hood." Harley stated, "Never heard you speak without that modulator either."

"Whatever." Jason snorted and turned to start walking again. They followed Jervis into what appeared to be a conference room. There were dead ferals with masks over their face propped up at the table, and a tea set laid out with a cup for each feral. Jason grimaced at the reek of rotting flesh and kind of wished he could pretend to drink tea with his helmet on. The smell alone was enough to make him nauseous, never mind the gruesome picture the corpses painted.

"What the actual fuck." He said out loud, unable to help himself.

"You didn't think you were my only guests, did you?" Jervis asked, looking up from where he was pouring something that actually looked like tea into cups.

Jason decided that Jervis was much further gone than he let on, which was a feat, because the other man always seemed unhinged to him. Behind him, he could hear Harley trying not to gag.

"What do you think our chances are of knocking him out and running?" Jason whispered.

Harley shook her head, "He's been here awhile if he's set this up. He probably knows the building better than we do." She whispered back, "Just sit down and play along until we get a chance to get out of here."

Reluctantly, they both took seats where they were available between the feral corpses. At the table, the smell was even worse. Jervis set a cup down in front of him, and then one down in front of Harley, before taking his seat at the head of the table. Jason looked around at the various masks that the bodies were wearing. The one at the other head of the table wore a mask that looked like Batman's, and then Jason felt sick for a different reason. He looked down at his hands and swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat.

"It's so nice that you all came." Jervis crooned and Jason grimaced, trying to tune out the other man's voice, instead focusing on pretending to drink his tea without getting any of it in his mouth.

He was so busy ignoring Jervis that he didn't notice that the man came up right beside him, "What's the matter, Mr. Red Hood?" He asked, "Do you not like the tea? You haven't drank a drop." There was something dark in his eyes.

Jason jolted a little and looked at Jervis, "Ah... I'm not... Big on tea."

"You're being very rude." Jervis hissed, the politeness bleeding out of his own tone.

Harley kicked Jason lightly beneath the table and he reluctantly took a sip of the tea. Which was very bitter, but over all, just tasted like tea.

Jervis relaxed and went back to his seat, beginning to babble again.

Jason had finished about half of his tea when Harley dropped her cup and began to slump in her chair. Jervis abruptly stopped talking and Jason looked to see a pleased smile spread across his face. When Jason moved to stand, his limbs felt heavy and out of control, and he realized, through the fog that was quickly clouding his head, that he'd been drugged. He mustered a glare as Jervis hopped up onto the table and walked towards them, looming over Jason, "What does a bat and a bird have in common?" He crooned, leaning down so that he could look Jason in the eye.

Jason gurgled something unintelligible, unable to make his mouth form words.

Jervis laughed and clasped his hands in front of him, "They both underestimate the Hatter."

Jason lurched forward a little, trying to fight through the haze consuming him. Jervis clicked his tongue in disapproval before pulling out the pistol that Jason had seen in his belt earlier. Jason braced himself for the shot, but instead, the butt of the gun met his temple, and he slipped abruptly into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jervis is my favourite tiny psycho and i feel that he is severally underestimated by the batfam and his fellow rogues.  
> that being said, i don't feel too good about this chapter, but it's helped me decided where i'm headed with a few things.
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"One day, you're making such... plans." A soft giggle bubbled forth from the man's throat and he ducked his head, blonde curls falling across his eyes, "And then next the world ends, and the day after that, you're dead."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"You're not dead."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: very mild medical gore
> 
> so  
> i'm kind of nervous about this chapter for multiple reasons.  
> the joker doesn't really follow any specific canon, especially appearance wise because i took all sorts of liberties there. i'm going with "who the fuck knows where he came from" for his background. for the love of god, please do not bitch at me about the joker being one way or the other, because i am warning you here, that he is my own variant of the joker that i designed for a roleplay and sort of fell in love with.  
> also, the joker in bruce's dreams is a lot more contained than he's really going to be throughout the rest of the story.

"Life is strange sometimes, isn't it."

Bruce looked at the man sitting next to him, then took in his surroundings, and knew that he was asleep. The garden around them shuddered and shifted with Bruce's consciousness, mingling with memory and imagination. Here, he couldn't feel the pain in his chest, the dull ache of something important having been misplaced, but he knew he'd feel it when he woke up again. He'd lost so much, and these dreams always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Mostly because of him. God why was it always him.

The Joker looked softer here.

Bruce blamed it on the time he'd seen the man in Arkham without all that garish paint covering him up. He'd looked sallow and sickly in the harsh fluorescent light, and Bruce almost hadn't recognize him at first. His hair was falling around in messy blonde curls around his face, and when he'd looked up his eyes weren't the acid green that Bruce was used to, but almost the colour of honey, maybe. But when his chapped, thin lips had split into a sickeningly familiar grin, looking straight at Bruce like he  _knew_ , Bruce hadn't been able to see anyone but the Joker.

"One day, you're making such... plans." A soft giggle bubbled forth from the man's throat and he ducked his head, blonde curls falling across his eyes, "And then next the world ends, and the day after that, you're dead."

"You're not dead." Bruce replied.

"How do you know that?" The Joker asked, tilting his face up to look at Bruce, "How do you really truly know that?"

"Tell me where to find you." It was a stupid demand, because he was speaking to a figment of his dream, but Bruce made it without fail, every time the Joker showed up here, in this place, in Bruce's sleep.

"I can't do that." Was the reply he always got.

"I can't let you remain unchecked, you're dangerous." He paused, "You could have Nightwing."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I? Without any Boy Wonders, I might add."

"You're not. This is a dream."

"Maybe this is reality." The Joker mused, "And the other world is a dream."

Bruce shook his head, "If this were reality, you wouldn't know about my dreams."

"Maybe I can see in side your head, Bruce." The Joker twisted so that he was facing Bruce full on. Bruce didn't turn to face him back, didn't flinch when those cold, thin fingers fell upon his face, pressing into his temples and the arches of his cheeks and the corners of his lips, "Maybe... I just know... Because I know you." The Joker rose to his knees and inched a little closer, "Maybe we have a connection." His voice dipped into a whisper, "You know... That kinship you feel, that you don't want to acknowledge, because it would mean that I'm right... That we're the same..." His fingers stroked back through Bruce's hair and then the touch was gone.

The garden began to shift and distort slightly, and Bruce knew he was waking up, "Do you have him? There has to be something I've missed." He snapped, a little desperate.

"You're gonna have to keep looking, Bruce. We both know you can't stay away for too long." The Joker chimed, his voice sounding far off as the dream unraveled.

When Bruce woke up, that ache was there as he knew it would be. It was telling him he'd lost too much.

 

Officer Abigail Stringer had expected a lot of things after the massive storm had hit. The decrepitness of the city, the Bat stepping up, the weather, lots of casualties. Something she hadn't expected were zombies, because nobody ever expected zombies. Not in real life. Not even in Gotham.  
  
She should have expected zombies, she thought to herself, as she skidded and slipped around a corner on the icy ground, then maybe she'd have more bullets. A zombie impacted with the earth where she had just been, and screamed angrily. She kept running, heading down the alley she'd turned into. She crawled up onto the dumpster and made a leap for the fire escape, just barely catching on and hauling herself up, the frigid metal biting painfully into her fingers.  
  
Once Abigail was on the relative safety of the fire escape, she took a minute to breathe. She had, for the most part, spent her time, post storm, in doors. But now her home was overrun with fucking ZOMBIES (seriously, what the fuck!), and she had to find somewhere else for shelter.  
  
The zombies were beginning to gather under the fire escape, clawing and moaning after her. One of them nearly snagged her ankle, and Abigail decided she needed to get higher, so she stood up and climbed until she reached the roof.  
  
Once she was up, the first thing she did was detach her radio from her belt and try again, "Hello? This is Officer Stringer of the GCPD. If anyone's out there, please respond."  
  
She waited, but there was, again, nothing. "This is Officer Abigail Stringer of the GCPD. Anyone, come in." She said into the radio.  
  
Nothing. She waited, then spoke one more time, "Anyone. My name is Abigail Stringer, and I need assistance. Come in."  
  
The radio crackled, but nothing else came through. Abigail swore under her breath and rubbed her hand through her mousy brown hair, tilting her head down in defeat.  
  
That's when she noticed the blood. A trail of it, leading through the snow towards the roof access door. She knitted her eyebrows and frowned, following the trail. The door was just barely propped open with a brick.  
  
Abigail slowly swung the door open, and she nearly gagged on the heavy scent of copper that came from the small entrance of the roof access. She scrambled for her flashlight and shone it through the darkness, following the trail down into the stairwell.  
  
On the first platform, sitting up against the cold stone wall, was a man, dressed garishly in a purple pinstripe suit. Even without the grease paint covering his skin, and the green faded from his hair, there was no mistaking him for anyone but the Joker.  
  
He was also horribly horribly injured, blood flowing freely from between his fingers which were held tight against a wound in his right side just below his ribs. The Law Enforcement Officer in Abigail was telling her that her priority should be to assist in tending to the wound and preventing casualties. The Average Person in Abigail was reminding her of all the horrible things that the man before her had done, and insisted she just let him bleed. Or put him out of his misery.  
  
She jolted when the man in front of her let out a slow, raspy laugh, peering up at her with glassy eyes, "Howdy... Officer." He whispered, his voice weak. Obviously, he had lost a great deal of blood, he was sitting in a pool of it, and he was trembling like a leaf.  
  
The shaking is what kicked Abigail into action. "Put your hands up where I can see them, and let me see what I can do about that wound." She said, using her Police Officer Voice.  
  
The Joker snorted but made no attempt to move, "Think that's a lost cause, Officer, unless you got a sewing kit." He began to laugh again until he started coughing, and Abigail wondered if whatever had made the wound had nicked his lung.  
  
"Fine. Then die here." Abigail turned to leave, already at peace with the decision to allow the Joker to bleed and die, but as she reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped her.  
  
"Wa-a-ait." He called, purposely putting some vibrato in his voice and drawing the 'a' sound out. His voice got weaker near the end and he coughed again.  
  
She stopped, but didn't turn to face him, despite how queasy it made her feel to have her back to the Joker. She heard him shift, his jacket whispering against the concrete wall.  
  
"I'll, uh... comply. Officer." He tried to snicker but it turned into a soft, pained wheeze.  
  
Abigail turned back to him and nodded, "Hands up, then." She said, gesturing.  
  
The Joker gave her a deadpan look, "Will you settle for just the one? My side's been sort of achy lately." He replied.  
  
Abigail hesitated, then sighed, "Do the best you can." She instructed.  
  
The Joker shimmied about a bit on the floor, then raised one arm above his head, and the other part of the way, stopping when the wound pulled.  
  
With his hands out of the way, Abigail could clearly see the jagged rip in the Joker's flesh. Blood seeped steadily from the wound, making the torn fabric of his shirt stick to his abdomen.  
  
Abigail removed the tactical knife from her boot and cautiously moved forward, "Keep your hands still, or I will end you." She warned as she knelt before the Joker. He let out a weak chuckle that fell short when the blade of Abigail's knife dipped beneath his shirt. She deftly cut the fabric away from the site of the wound, then used her sleeve to wipe away some of the blood.  
  
"Stay still." She warned him as she leaned back and removed her bag from her shoulder. She found her first aid kit and laid it out in front of her.  
  
She tore a disinfectant wipe open with her teeth and used it to rub away more of the blood and grime from the Joker's abdomen, before she grabbed a suture needle and thread.  
  
"This will get infected." The Joker informed her. His right arm was shaking badly, sending tremors through his entire body, from the effort of keeping it raised. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his face and abdomen in the beam of her flashlight.

Abigail sighed, "I don't have anything better to clean it with." She threaded the needle, then positioned it against his skin. "Deep breath." She instructed. As the Joker was inhaling, Abigail pushed through the skin and brought the edges at the bottom of the wound together. The Joker cackled at the initial entry, and trashed his head from side to side.

The stitches were somewhat slow going because the Joker wouldn't sit still, kept squirming and wincing and hissing and laughing with every push-pull of the needle. Once the last one was in place and tied off, Abigail cut the thread with her knife and sat back to examine her work.

Which was probably her third or fourth mistake in the situation. The Joker sprang forward, wrapping his hand around the wrist of her hand that was holding the knife, and knocking her to the floor. His face twisted in pain, but he was surprisingly strong above her, "Thanks for the patch job, doc, but you've, uh… Outlived your usefulness." He snickered.

She began to struggle, bucking to throw him off as be reached inside his coat. Why hadn't she checked him for weapons, she cried at herself internally.

The Joker produced a gun from his jacket, and without even thinking, Abigail jabbed hard against the freshly stitched wound. The Joker doubled over on top of her and let out a wheezing laugh. She took the opening and hit his wrist of the hand holding the gun, sending the weapon clattering across the ground, sliding through the puddle of blood.

"Wait! Listen to me." She tried, "You're going to _die_ in this building if you kill me." Pain blossomed through her wrist as the Joker smashed it against the ground, forcing her to release the knife. She wasn't sure if he was listening or not.

The Joker grabbed the knife and put it against her throat, "Right. Like you aren't going to do me in executioner style the moment we have an audience." He sneered down at her.

"I'm not." Abigail insisted, "We could help each other. You don't want to kill me." She wiggles, "Even if you do make it out of here, how are you going to defend yourself with a hole in your chest?"

The Joker snorted, "I seem to be doing fine against y-ah!"

She jabbed the wound again and then bucked hard, throwing the Joker off to the side. She scrambled quickly to her feet and grabbed the gun before the Joker could make a grab for it, leveling it at his head. Her breathing was slightly laboured, "You can come and cooperate with me, or you can die. I'll make it quick." She said.

The Joker began to laugh again, staying on his back and looking up at Abigail, "You don't play fair, Officer." He said, sounding mock disappointed. Then he shook his head, "Have it your way."

Abigail narrowed her eyes a little, "Roll onto your stomach and put your hands behind your back so that I can cuff you." She instructed.

The Joker scowled, "You don't need to cuff me." He said, using his best innocent tone.

It had absolutely no effect on Abigail. She just glared at him, "I absolutely do. Roll over. Now."

The Joker made no move to do as told, so Abigail delivered a swift kick to his ribs, followed by several more until the man turned over.

Abigail dropped and crouched over Joker, pulling his arms back and affixing the cuffs. Using the chain, she hauled Joker to his feet and he staggered, "Come on. The Bat will deci-" She broke off when her radio crackles.

"Officer Stringer, come in." Came the voice of a young woman.

"This is Officer Stringer." Abigail replied immediately.

Another voice, this one distinctly belonging to Commissioner Gordon, "Officer Stringer." A familiar voice was was a great deal of comfort for Abigail.

"Commissioner Gordon, good to hear from you." Abigail said, relief palpable in her tone.

"Good to hear from you too, Officer. Report?" The Commissioner asked.

"I know something you don't know." The Joker suddenly chimed in as Abigail pushed down the button on the radio to respond. He let out a bit of a laugh afterwards and swayed forward. Abigail used her grips on the cuffs to haul him back upright before he fell.

"Is that..." The Commissioner started before trailing off.

"The Joker, Sir." Abigail confirmed, "I found him wounded. He's currently stable, and I have him restrained. I don't know what I'm going to do with him though."

"Tell me your location and I'll send someone to get you." The Commissioner replied.

"Yes sir. We're in an apartment building in the Narrows, on thirty second." Abigail said, "We'll head up to the roof." She hooked the radio on her belt and began to haul the Joker after her, "You gonna remain cooperative?" She asked.

The Joker grinned slowly at her in a way that sent a chill down her spine, "Of course, Officer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the first part of this seems really weird and disconnected, that's because it's supposed to.  
> i'm really not sure how i feel about this introduction to the joker.  
> comments and feedback are always greatly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief allusions to rape/non-con in this chapter, but nobody flat out mentions it. violence.
> 
> holy shit, sorry this took so long. i started writing like three damitim fics instead of working on this, and none of them are finished, but i needed to get another chapter of this up!
> 
> i don't know how tracking radio signals work, so i'm sorry if it's inaccurate.

When Jason woke up, he could hear his pulse thundering in his ears, and feel it throbbing in his temple where the butt of Hatter's gun had connected with his skull. The nausea hit him immediately after and he tried to sit up, but there was a weight on his chest, holding him down.

"Don't move around too much, Hood." Harley said, gently touching her fingers against his eyelids, which he realized he hadn't opened.

He forced himself to open his eyes and the room spun, his nausea increasing tenfold. He groaned unintelligibly and rolled his head a little, "Where are we?"

"Can't say, exactly. Harley seems to think we're in some building up town." Came another voice that Jason couldn't immediately pinpoint, but was immediately annoyed by. He groaned again, and something shifted beneath his head, which he realized, was resting on someone's thighs. Again, he tried to sit up, only to be forced back down by hands on the side of his head, "Look, you no doubt have a concussion, you really don't want to be moving around so much."

Jason managed to shift his head enough to look up at the man sitting behind him. "Ah, fuck. You."

"You should be grateful. Without me, you two would have no chance of escape." The Riddler smiled smugly down at Jason.

"I'm going to vomit on you if you don't let me up." Jason directed the threat at the both of them. Harley immediately got off his chest, and Nygma let his head go. Jason lurched upwards and then doubled over to empty the contents of his stomach (which was mostly bile and tea) onto the dirty cement floor he'd been lying on.

"Gross." Harley muttered.

Jason looked up at her and frowned deeply. She looked worse than she had before he'd passed out. Her jacket was missing, and there were new tears in her tights, and her make up was smudged, dark mascara tracks down her cheeks like she'd been crying.

"Are you okay?" He asked, prodding gingerly at the wound on his head.

Harley arched an eyebrow, "Am I okay? You're the one who got knocked upside the head." She said, offering Jason her hand so he could stand.

The room spun and he stumbled once he was on his feet, "What happened?" He asked.

"Well, Tetch dropped you in here, then Harley a few hours later." Nygma said, getting to his feet and brushing off his pants, seemingly out of habit, because nothing was saving the green slacks at this point, they were crusted with blood and grime.

Jason's stomach twisted and he turned to Harley, "What did Tetch do?" He demanded in a low growl.

Harley looked away for a moment before shrugging her shoulders, "We talked." She said, and Jason could tell she was lying.

He exhaled slowly through his teeth and rolled his shoulders, "We need to get out of here." He looked over at Nygma, not pushing Harley for the truth, unsure if he really wanted it.

Nygma arched an eyebrow, "Well, while you were passed out, I tried to get your gauntlet off to see if I could repair the comm systems, but I couldn't remove it without my tools." He said, folding his arms over his chest.

"It's rigged." Jason hesitated before disengaging the fail-safe on his gauntlet and handing it over to Nygma, "Be fucking careful, I need that thing."

Nygma rolled his eyes and Jason resisted punching him in the face. He took in another deep breath to calm himself down as Nygma walked away and slowly sat back down to take inventory of his weapons and gadgets. Hatter had taken his pistol, his helmet, and his backpack, but left him with his grappling gun and his throwing stars. At least he wasn't completely helpless. But supplies wise, he was totally fucked. No helmet meant he was vulnerable to spores, and his bag had carried food, water, a flashlight, a set of knives, and several other things useful to survival. He was going to track down Tetch again and beat the shit out of the little creep.

The three of them lapsed into silence, and it made Jason's skin crawl. They should be trying to figure out a way to get out of here, and his comms weren't going to be their salvation if he couldn't get a signal wherever they were. He managed to stay seated for about five minutes before he had to get to his feet and begin to pace.

Eventually, Nygma broke the silence, "You wouldn't happen to have something with a fine tip, would you?" He asked.

Jason stopped and looked at Nygma, "Would a throwing star count?" He asked.

Nygma chewed on his lower lip before holding his hand out, "Let me see." He said.

Jason pulled out one of the throwing stars and handed it over to Nygma after a moment's thought. If Nygma tried to attack him, Jason could take him down easily, even with the intense vertigo he was still experiencing.

Nygma took the weapon and held it up to the dim lights, before smiling, "Perfect."

 

Damian crossed the roof top silently, pausing at the next ledge to sit and listen for any movement in the silent city. He tilted his head form side to side and focused,  but heard nothing but the shuffling of the infected that he had no business with.

He crossed to the next roof top when his comm burst to life with static, startling him and throwing him off balance. He nearly slipped off the roof, steadying himself on the ledge, but only barely. The static in his ear persisted and he fiddled with the connection. Slowly, the signal became more clear, and the static turned into a familiar noise. A bird call came over the line, one that Damian easily identified as a robin, because Batman had taught him that very same call to use when he was in trouble.

He listened for a second and decided that the signal was on a loop so trying to speak would be pointless. He switched channels until he got the Arkham signal, "Gordon, this is Robin. I have a task for you."

A moment later the signal crackled and Gordon spoke, "What is it, kid?"

Damian scowled a little, "I need you to track a signal for me. I can not do it from here."

"Is it important? Batman asked me to send you after him if you got in contact." Gordon said.

Damian exhaled noisily through his nose, "It is important, or I would not be asking. What does Batman need?"

"He's going after the Joker. He got in touch with one of my Officers, and she had him in custody."

Joker... Damian rocked on his heels and thought. Joker was a risk, but what if he lost the signal before they could track it? What if it was Dick? He stood up straight, "Track the signal, Batman can take care of the Joker." He snapped.

Gordon sighed, "Alright, give me the radio coordinates." He said.

Damian told Gordon the coordinates, then fell completely still as he waited, crouched on the roof.

"Alright. The signal looks like it's coming from one of those sky scrapers up town." Gordon said, "Used to be a Law Firm run by a man called Stonehill."

Damian thought for a moment before nodding, "I know which building you are talking about. If Batman checks in, tell him that I may have a lead on Nightwing."

Gordon was silent for a second, "You really think you might?"

"He was taught the same signals as I was, and this is one of them." Damian cut the radio signal and returned to the one with the bird call.

He wasn't far from the building Gordon had tracked the signal to, but getting there was going to be tricky. Many of the buildings on the way were condemned and caving in, and he didn't have his grappling gun.

Instead, he dropped down to the streets and paused to listen for the shuffles and screams of the infected before taking a back alley out onto the main street that would take him to Stonehill's building. He glanced down the street in both directions before darting across the street, out into the open, and then back into the cover of another alley. He whirled, alarmed, when something impacted in the ground behind him.

The infected made eye contact with him before it got to it's feet with clumsy lurching motions. Damian narrowed his eyes in response and then dropped into a fighting crouch. When the infected charged him, he leapt to the side and it ran past him and into the fence at the end of the alley. While it was picking itself back up, Damian got ready for the next charge. When it came at him again, Damian let it dart past him again and jumped on it as it ran past. He brought his fist down into the soft rot of its skull, his brass knuckles caving through the bone easily. The thing collapsed beneath him, and Damian moved away from it quickly.

He could hear more coming. He turned and ran back down the alley, climbing over the fence. As soon as his boots hit the snowy pavement, he was off like a shot, through the alley and back out onto another street. He veered left. Fifteen blocks to Stonehill's building. He put his head down and ran. His lungs heaved a bit by the time he reached the Stonehill building, crashing through the front doors and into a tumble. He unclipped the gas mask from his belt and fitted it over his face before looking around.

The first thing he noticed is that the elevator buttons were blinking. The building had power. Which meant someone was here. Someone who could have Nightwing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one breaks off rather abruptly, i know. and it feels kind of short. sorry for the cliff hanger, but i hope you guys are enjoying this so far!  
> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are great!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Everyone's a mindless shuffling sack of parasites." Joker responded, "And hand grenades are effective at making sure those shuffling mindless sacks don't sink their teeth into you. Can't shuffle anywhere if you don't have legs."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: minor violence

Abigail kept a tight hold on the cuffs keeping the Joker's hands locked together as they waited on the roof. The knife he'd picked back up and tucked into the back of his pants was thrown to the snow, and there was also three hand grenades with it, well out of reached. The man himself was looking a little queasy, and she idly wondered how much blood he had lost before she'd found him dying on the floor.

"You know, Officer," He drawled, his voice grating after he'd been silent, "I'm feeling a little naked since you disarmed me."

"What do you even need hand grenades for? Everyone's dead." Abigail snapped in response.

"Everyone's a mindless shuffling sack of parasites." Joker responded, "And hand grenades are effective at making sure those shuffling mindless sacks don't sink their teeth into you. Can't shuffle anywhere if you don't have legs."

Abigail eyed the grenades thoughtfully. The second she had her eyes off him, Joker lurched forward, wrenching the chain free from her grip and stumbling forward. She stumbled too. For someone with a fresh set of stitches and no hands, the Joker recovered surprisingly quickly. He turned around and glared at Abigail as she straightened up and stepped towards him.

"Don't make me shoot you. I've been ridiculously lenient." Abigail threatened, pulling her gun and pointing it at Joker.

Joker bared his teeth in a psychotic grin. They were stained red with blood and Abigail didn't want to know what from. "What's stopping you, Officer? Is it against your morals?" He sneered.

Abigail flipped the safety and cocked the gun, keeping it aimed at Joker. She rested her finger against the trigger guard, "Turn around and get down on your knees." She said.

Joker lurched forward a step and cackled when Abigail flinched backward, "You're not going to do it." He pitched his voice low and dangerous. Abigail stood her ground, but the Joker unsettled her, even as helpless as he currently was.

"Just give me a reason, clown." She responded, keeping her voice strong.

The laugh she got in response to that rumbled up deep from Joker's chest and had something dark and disturbing to it, "My existence should be reason enough, Officer."

He was right. What was stopping her? Her finger twitched against the trigger guard. She hesitated briefly and the Joker just stared her down. Why had she been so lenient? Common decency? This was the Joker she was dealing with. She should have just shot him when she first came across him. She had a chance to now. She moved her finger to the trigger.

As she pulled back on the trigger and the bullet exited the chamber of her gun, a black blur dropped down on the roof. The bullet embedded itself in thick kevlar and Batman grunted and stumbled backwards with the impact. Joker was sprawled out on the ground behind him, giggling like a lunatic. Which she supposed he was.

Batman took a threatening step towards her and she immediately lowered the gun, "Uhh, Batman. I- I'm- are you okay?" She stammered out.

Batman was silent. Behind him, Joker had rolled onto his stomach and was inching towards the edge of the building.

"He's, uh... trying to crawl away." Abigail said, gesturing.

Batman just stared at her and it was almost as unsettling as Joker's voice.

"He's going to fall off the roof." She tried.

Batman turned around and picked the Joker up bodily by his arm. The Joker winced as his stitches pulled. They both turned back towards Abigail, Joker stumbling a little as Batman tugged him around.

Batman stared at her again.

"Uh oh." Joker hummed, and giggled, "Someone seems angry."

"Shut up." Batman said, and gave Joker a rough shake. The man sucked in a sharp, pained breath.

"Be gentle with me, Bats, your officer here did a real number on me."

Batman's expression shifted slightly. It was hard to tell but it kind of looked like he may have been smiling just slightly, "I'm sure whatever she did you deserved it." He said. His voice betrayed no hint of amusement. "However." He might have been glaring at Abigail behind those white eyes. It felt like it. She felt the urge to cower, "Pointing a gun at you seems somewhat redundant, seeing as you are captive and injured and in no state to fight back."

Abigail scoffed, "I don't think you're giving him enough credit." She spat, "He put up a decent fight inside."

Any traces of amusement were gone, "I'm sure he did. Joker's not someone to underestimate." Batman glared at the man and Joker smiled sweetly (psychotically) at him.

"So, holding a gun on him seemed kind of necessary."

The Joker suddenly twisted in Batman's grip and lashed out with one hand. Batman caught his wrist and jerked it behind his back painfully. Joker laughed. Loudly. Below them, something screamed and moved.

"Shut up!" Batman growled again, "There's a hoard of infected beneath us. They probably smell your blood. If you keep making noise they're going to work to find a way up."

Much to Abigail's surprise, Joker nodded and covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, and Batman allowed him to move his hand around. The cuffs were dangling from the wrist of the hand that Joker had over his mouth, something thin jammed in the lock of the empty side. A bobby pin. Where the fuck had he gotten a bobby pin?

"We need to get out of here." Batman said. "Joker, how well can you move?"

Before Joker could respond, the comm in Batman's gauntlet crackled to life. "Batman, come in." The Commissioner's voice came over the line.

"This is Batman. Officer Stringer and the Joker are both in my custody."

"Custody?" Abigail objected. Batman looked at her and she snapped her mouth shut.

"Robin checked in a few minutes ago. He said he may have a lead on Nightwing and went uptown by himself." Gordon said, "But I tapped the radio signal he wanted me to track, and I think he may be walking into a trap or something."

"Who would set a trap for Robin right now?" Abigail asked in disbelief, "Gotham is infested by zombies."

"I'm sure many rogues survived the storm. They're resourceful." Batman said, "Why they'd set a trap for Robin, I don't know."

"They wouldn't. Much more important things to deal with right now. Unless Penguin plans on using him to blackmail you for protection." Joker supplied.

Batman shook his head, "Gordon, where was he going?"

"To a Law Firm building called Stonehill."

Batman pressed his lips together and frowned. "That building was basically gutted in the storm." He said.

"That's where the signal originated from. He said it was some sort of bird call."

Batman looked between Joker and Abigail, "Send Red Robin in after him. I'm coming back with Officer Stringer and Joker. Joker needs proper medical attention."

"Alright."

The comm-link disconnected and Batman walked over to the edge of the building. Below them, the Infected had basically surrounded the building and were searching for a way to get inside. "We need to move now." Batman said.

"What about your fancy bat-plane?" Abigail asked.

"That's a possibility. It could carry you and Joker back to Arkham and leave me to go after Robin." Batman stared at Abigail, "But I don't trust him in anyone's care but my own."

"Awe, Bats." Joker fake swooned and Batman jostled him again.

"Behave and be quiet." Batman snapped.

Joker just grinned, "You and me could head back and you could leave the good Officer there to find her own way to the docks." He suggested.

Batman glared at him, "You have no input." He informed Joker before looking at Abigail, "I'm going to call the Batwing. Keep an eye on him and I'll send you both back to Arkham. Tell Gordon to lock him up in medical as soon as you two arrive."

Abigail nodded a little, "Got it." She said.

Batman pulled Joker's other hand behind his back and recuffed him before patting him down and disposing of the bobby pin he'd used to free himself. He then grabbed the back of Joker's collar, "I'll decide what to do with you back at Arkham. Solitary confinement is still in tact." He growled, before shoving Joker forward. He stumbled and fell into the snow, landing on his shoulder because he didn't have arms to catch himself.

Abigail cautiously walked over and got Joker to his feet while Batman did something on his gauntlet. She had one hand on Joker's bicep, and the other gripping the chain between the cuffs. Joker was shaking like a leaf and bleeding through the bandages that Abigail had wrapped around his wound. "He's losing blood again." She said.

"There are doctors at Arkham. They'll help." Abigail was good at picking up on voices, and Batman almost sounded concerned. Almost. Mostly, he just sounded irritated.

The Batwing swooped in silently and hovered low to the ground. Batman opened the cockpit and put something into the console before helping Joker into the passenger's seat. Abigail crawled into the pilot's seat herself. "It's on autopilot. Don't touch anything." Batman warned before closing the cockpit back up.

The Batwing took off towards Arkham and Abigail looked at the psychotic clown wiggling in the seat next to her. What the fuck was going on anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update is super late and poorly written and i'm sincerely apologetic. i've had some writer's block, but i'm determined not to abandon this!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is a death trap." Tim said aloud to no one but the cat that was still shifting around in the room. "Get on the elevator. Get on the elevator. How far could it have to fall if the cables snap, this is the ground floor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was looking back through the chapters to see if i was calling their rappel devices "grappling guns" or "grapnel guns" and it turns out i have, on separate occasions called them "grapple guns" "grappling guns" and "grapnel guns", so there you have it.
> 
> warnings for this chapter: super minor violence.

Tim stared up at the Stonehill building, stretching high and dark up into the sky like some sort of fucked up monolith to Gotham, still standing but hollowed out and abandon. He stared down his comm system again, but the only signal he had been able find was the bird call, repeating like some sort of taunt. Tim hadn't been able to listen to it for long and switched back to his radio channel. "Batman is so going to kill me if you're dead." He muttered. He unclipped the gas mask from his belt and put it on before going inside.

The first floor was filled with spores so dense he could hardly see through them. The lobby was a mess. Most of the furniture was broken and overturned. There was blood on the floor and broken glass. A phone was hanging halfway off the front desk, bolted to the ground, and Tim thought for a moment to strip it for parts, but he was on a mission.

At the far end of the room, he could see the elevator buttons blinking, a slow pulse of light in the dim room. Tim pulled the flashlight from his tool belt and shined it through the fog the spores were creating. He stepped forward carefully, shining his light along the ground to make sure he didn't step on anything. Something clattered off to the left and Tim shined his light off that way. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him before the cat that they belonged to darted off into hiding.

Tim came to a stop in front of the elevators and after a moment, pushed the button. The thing kicked to life with the horrible shrieking of rusted gears and Tim's pulse to climb higher. He covered his ears and ducked his head against the sound.

And then it stopped and the doors opened. The light inside the elevator car flickered a little as it lurched lightly on likely corroding cables. Tim clicked the flashlight off and slipped it back into his belt.

"This is a death trap." Tim said aloud to no one but the cat that was still shifting around in the room. "Get on the elevator. Get on the elevator. How far could it have to fall if the cables snap, this is the ground floor."

After a moment of bouncing in place, Tim put his Red Robin mask on and took a deep calming breath. He stepped onto the elevator and the whole thing jolted and squeaked uneasily beneath his weight. There was no way he was going to risk taking this thing up. But he could climb the shaft without the damn thing looming over his head now. The maintenance hatch above his head was closed, so Tim pulled the bo-staff off his back and pushed at it. It budged, but just barely, something keeping the hinge on the left from functioning properly. He pushed up again, harder, and the hatch wiggled. Something was jamming it shut.

Great.

Tim got to his knees to put all of his leverage up against the bottom of his staff, and shoved as hard as he could. Metal scraped shrilly against metal above him but the hatch didn't open. Tim growled and put his staff back.

Fine. He didn't need to go up anyway.

"If I was keeping Nightwing as a Hostage, I'd keep him below ground. Less chance he could escape." He stepped off the death trap elevator with a bit of relief and went to look for a stairwell instead.

He found the door he was looking for and flipped his night vision lenses on. The flight of stairs that led up to the second floor had collapsed ad the debris was cluttering the stairs below it and impairing Tim's way down. The rubble was loosely packed, though, and if Tim found the right stone, the whole thing would collapse. Another option was the open vent on the landing between the lobby and the basement. The idea of having to dig through stone was rather unappealing so it didn't take Tim long to make a decision. He crouched down and slipped into the vent.

Tim had never seen the schematics of the Stonehill building, but he was fairly certain he'd be able to find the vents into the basement easily enough. He crept forward, keeping a mental note of which branches he took, until the found a downward slope, and another vent that looked down into the basement. Tim kicked it out, wincing when the grate clattered loudly to the floor.

"Fuck." He cocked his head as he heard footsteps coming towards the noise, brisk but measured. He dropped quickly to the vent to find another hiding place that he could watch from.

"Is there another little bird lurking around in the dark?" A voice mused, and Tim knew that voice. The Mad Hatter. Jervis Tetch. "Three guests in a day, how exciting!" He crooned as he came into Tim's view. There was a handgun tucked in a holster that was far too big for Jervis draped over one of his shoulders. Tim would have to get close without the other man noticing if he didn't want to risk getting shot.

Tim remained crouched low, watching as Jervis stooped to examine the grate that had dropped from the vent Tim had just been in.

"I'm sure the others will  be happy for the company." Jervis murmured to himself. He look along the ground, presumably searching for signs of Tim. Tim pulled a shuriken from his belt and tossed it off in a direction away from him. It clanked against something metal, and Jervis looked towards it before a truly disturbing smile spread across his lips, "You must think I'm stupid." He said. Sneaking wasn't the best tactic here.

Jervis turned slowly, and Tim shifted in a position, ready to run. "Maybe a little." He taunted. Jervis turned to look towards his voice, and Tim launched forward, and charged straight for Jervis. He slammed his shoulder into the man's chest before he could reach for the gun in the holster. Jervis fell backwards and hit the ground with a soft gust of breath as the air was knocked from his lung. Tim grabbed the holster and pulled it off of Jervis's shoulder, slinging it over his own before pulling the gun and pointing it at the little man, "Where are the others?" He demanded.

The gun in his hand felt familiar. The serrations on the slide of the gun caught on his glove in a way he had felt before. The gun was missing it's twin, but it was definitely Jason's pistol.

"My guests are getting ready for a tea party." Jervis said, pouting up at Tim. He shifted slightly, reaching towards his coat and Tim pulled back the slide of the gun.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, Tetch." He warned, "And tell me where the others are."

"They're safe." Another smile twitched across Jervis's face as he put his hands up by his head and Tim growled.

"Do you have Nightwing?" He asked.

Jervis arched an eyebrow, "Nightwing? No, not Nightwing." He shook his head.

"Who do you have then?"

"Alice. And the King of Hearts. And the Dormouse." Jervis answered.

Tim crouched and glared at Jervis, "Tell me where they are. Don't waste my time."

"If you knew Time like I know Time, you wouldn't talk about wasting it." Jervis said with a click of his tongue.

Tim made a frustrated sound and grabbed Jervis by the collar, pulling him to his feet, "Where?"

"If you don't know where you're going, any road can get you there." Jervis smiled and Tim clenched his fist tighter in the front of his shirt.

"What's the matter, my dear? Don't you care for tea?" Jervis asked.

"No. I don't." Tim responded. He pulled zip ties from his belt and turned Jervis around. He pulled the man's arms behind his back and tied them at the wrist before pushing him forward onto the ground, "Maybe I'll set you free later." He grumbled, "I'll find them without you."

Tim walked the direction in which Jervis had come from, leaving Jervis to wiggle around on the ground, trying to twist and get his wrists free.

"Why is a Robin like a writing desk?" Jervis called after him.

"I don't care!" Tim shouted back, and kept walking.

The basement was a bit of a maze, and every door he found led nowhere important. Just storage rooms piled high with useless junk. He did, however, find three backpacks, a shotgun, a bloody baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, the Riddler's cane, and Jason's helmet in a room, among several other things that must have been something like a collection of things taken from whatever victims Jervis had found. He took Jason's helmet with him, and whatever ammo he could find, but left everything else.

Eventually, Tim found what he assumed used to be the boiler room, going by the sign by the door that said "boiler room". The door had obviously been replaced. The one that was there now was heavy metal and locked with padlocks that needed keys.

Tim put the gun in the holster and pulled out his lock picking kit. The locks were old, and it was somewhat slow going, but one by one, Tim got them open and off the door. He was struggling with the last one that was rusty and a little bit stuck, when he heard voices.

"Wake him up." A very distinct female voice that Tim knew well. Harley Quinn.

"I tried. He won't wake up." Another voice hissed in response. Male. Not Jason's, and too quiet for Tim to identify by ear, but logically, he thought, it was likely the Riddler, since Tim had found his cane earlier.

"He has to wake up! How are we gonna get out of here?" Harley asked in a bit of a wail.

"Well, I'm not the one who let him fall asleep! You were supposed to be watching him!" The Riddler snapped back. "He's probably dead."

"What? No. He's not dead." There was shuffling around, "He can't be dead, he's not supposed to die, he was supposed to help me find Ivy!"

"He's not going to be any help even if he does wake up." The Riddler said.

Tim pulled hard, and the lock finally came free with a groan. The voices stopped. He took it off the door and pushed the thing open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta da  
> didn't take me forever this time.  
> here's the next chapter.  
> i will keep on keeping on.
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I take it this isn't exactly a rescue party?" Edward asked. Red Robin wasn't looking at him anymore, eyes fixed firmly on Red Hood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me a while, but i am not giving up on this, i swear it.  
> here's another chapter!  
> any mistakes are mine.
> 
> warning: very mild description of injuries, and some dead bodies

Edward can't remember having ever been actually legitimately pleased to see any of the Robins, former or otherwise. But the current former Robin standing in the doorway seemed like a miracle, not that Edward believed in those. "I wasn't sure if any of you Bat-children were still running around the city." He said, getting up from Red Hood's side. The man was pale and very unconscious, and Harley had things handled in the fretting department.

Red Robin shifted his stance into a defensive posture and glared at Edward from behind his mask, "Riddler. Quinn." He greeted, squaring his shoulders and drawing himself to his full (unimpressive) height. Edward almost laughed at the posturing.

"I take it this isn't exactly a rescue party?" Edward asked. Red Robin wasn't looking at him anymore, eyes fixed firmly on Red Hood.

"What happened to him?" Red Robin crossed the floor briskly and took Hood's face in his hand and tilted his head so he could get a better look at the gash on his temple.

"Jervis caught him a little off guard, I think." Edward answered as Harley tried to bat Red Robin's hands away from Hood's face.

"Stop touchin' it, you'll make it worse, and then he won't help me find Ivy." She complained.

Red Robin exhaled slowly through his nose and then stood up, turning to face Edward, "Have either of you seen Robin? Or Nightwing?" He asked.

"Nightwing." Edward grinned, "I've seen Nightwing." He confirmed. He saw the hope pass across Red Robin's face briefly, despite not being able to see his eyes from behind the mask.

"Where? Was he okay?" Red Robin asked, his voice filling with urgency.

Hood groaned and Harley squealed, "I think he's wakin' up!" She said.

Red Robin waved her off, "He probably is. He'll be fine, Red Hood is resilient." He snapped, before stepping towards Edward, "Nightwing."

"Nightwing?" Hood echoed, his voice groggy.

"I saw him just after this whole thing started." Edward gestured expansively, indicating the storm and the resulting apocalyptic nightmarescape. "He was in Gotham. I was looking for- something, when I found him." He paused and then narrowed his eyes, "I'll tell you more, but I want information too."

"About what?" Red Robin looked skeptical, folding his arms over his chest.

"People. Things."

"Fine. Who do you want to know about?"

"Where is Batman?" Edward asked.

"I'm not sure. But he's alive and around. He was dealing with the Joker last time I checked." Red Robin answered.

Harley squealed again and popped to her feet, throwing her arms out like a cheerleader, "Mr. J's alive?" She asked excitedly. Hood thumped her on the leg and hushed her.

"I didn't see him, but radio chatter suggests he's not in good shape, I wouldn't get your hopes up." Red Robin told her, giving her a once over, "Besides, aren't you looking for Ivy or something?" He asked.

Harley narrowed her eyes at him, "Now, how did you hear about that?" She asked.

"What? You just told me like five minutes ago." Red Robin sputtered.

"Oh, okay."

Edward cleared his throat loudly, "If I may continue?"

Red Robin looked back at him, "Fine."

"Selina Kyle. What have you heard of her since the storm?"

"Alive and well. Catwoman has been helping out some, locating food and stuff." Red Robin answered, "I just left her, actually, a few hours ago."

"Jonathan Crane?" Edward asked, keeping his voice as neutral as he had with Selina.

"I couldn't tell you." Red Robin said, "No one's see Scarecrow since before the storm, not anyone that we know of." He folded his arms, "They're probably going to question Joker soon, maybe he'll have information."

Edward nodded, "Very well." He said, folding his own arms.

"Nightwing?" Hood prompted. He was beginning to sit up more, wincing with the movement, but powering through. He still sounded groggy.

Red Robin knelt down beside him, "What the hell happened here?"

"Jervis tried to drug us and when that didn't work very well, I got pistol whipped."

Red Robin waved the helmet, "Why was your helmet off?"

"Tea party." A tiny bit of a smile quirked at Hood's lips.

Red Robin sighed, "You are an idiot." He dropped the helmet in Hood's lap before standing up again and looking at Edward expectantly.

"Nightwing was in Gotham, following something. A trail. He wouldn't tell me, anything, obviously, but he was speaking with 'O' when I found him."

Red Robin's face contorted slightly, "Where in Gotham did you meet him? Which way did he go? Did he give any indication of where he was headed?" He demanded.

Edward chuckled softly, "He was heading South West from the Bowery towards Coventry."

 

Damian winced as he dropped back down into the elevator shaft, the landing sending pain shooting up his left leg. The elevator groaned and rocked beneath even his insubstantial weight, and he braced himself just in case.

He'd gone up to the very top of the building, and he had found no sign of Nightwing or Red Robin, or even Red Hood or any of the Batgirls. He had found a rather macabre tableau that almost could have been the work of Mr. Zsasz, but the scene had Mad Hatter written all over it. Plus, all of the victims throats had been mostly in tact.

Lifeless bodies posed around a table in what had appeared to be an old conference room, each wearing a mask, and fitted with a tea cup. Two spots had been empty, but there had still been cups there, and blood had been drying on the table in front of one of the empty chairs.

He had contiued upwards until he ran into a group of infected. He had picked them off, one by one, his sword cleanly slicing through each neck and sending their heads rolling.

There had been one he hasn't accounted for in another room. It caught sight of him and charged him from behind. He got into a tussle with the thing as it tried to close it's teeth around any body part it could reach. Damian caved it's head in with his brass knuckles and then rolled and abruptly felt pain. He looked down and saw a piece of broken rebar had torn jaggedly up the side of his leg. Fantastic.

When he got his feet under him, walking was a chore. He'd managed to make it to the top of the building, but going down was a chore.

After he was sure the elevator cables weren't about to snap, he pulled the shuriken from the hinges of the hatch and tucked it back into his belt, before slipping down into the cab of the elevator.

He was mildly surprised to find himself on the ground floor, but he supposed Tetch may have taken the elevator down, but the scratches he saw on the inside of the hatch when it fell closed told a different story.

Damian dropped into a crouch and turned his night vision lenses on. He looked around for any movement, but saw nothing. When he moved into the room, however, he saw that the door to the stairwell was ajar. He cocked his head and flipped the lenses off again before moving towards the door.

The hinges groaned when he pulled it open further, and he tensed, but nothing came. The stairwell was dimly lit, the lights running on a back-up generator most likely. He took the steps down slowly, since he couldn't go up. On the landing, he saw two things. Rubble blocking the way down, and an open vent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay  
> another chapter and a lead on nightwing!  
> i feel like i keep cutting things off abruptly, i'm sorry.  
> thank you for reading, kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
